These Dreams
by Etoile87
Summary: Rachel gets some sense talked into her by the only person who can possibly save her - herself. Set in 3x11. Mostly Rachel-centric, suggested St. Berry.


**A/N: **Posted this on tumblr like a month ago, and finally decided to clean it up and post it here. This was spawned by a discussion my friend and I had about how Season 1 Rachel Berry would be ashamed of Season 3 Rachel Berry. This is set during 'Michael,' AFTER Rachel accepts Finn's proposal, but BEFORE she gets her NYADA letter at the very end of the episode. Enjoy this cracked-out dream sequence!

**Disclaimer: **None of the RachelS are mine. Jesse's not mine, either. Sadly.

**These Dreams**

Rachel sighs, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. Maybe it's the stress of waiting for her NYADA letter - knowing that Kurt has his already makes her feel like every day going by is her chances growing dimmer. Or maybe it's the stress of preparing for Regionals - they still don't have a setlist, _God_. Or debating her answer to Finn's question. Or wondering what the hell she's going to tell her dads now that she's decided on that answer. But whatever it is, she's been having a horrible time falling asleep - and staying asleep - for the last week.

She firmly tells herself not to look at the clock on her nightstand again – the last time she checked, it was well after 2 a.m., and reminding herself over and over just how little sleep she's getting is _not_ helping her relax. She rolls over, intent on literally turning her back on the clock – and squeals in shock as gaze inadvertently locks with perfectly identical brown eyes.

She bolts upright in bed, blinking rapidly. No, she's not imagining it. A girl is sitting in her chair, impatiently tapping her fingers on the surface of the desk. She's wearing a blue sweater with an owl on the front of it, and a short gray pleated skirt.

"Good, you're finally awake," the girl says, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. "I've been waiting forever to talk to you."

"What the HELL," Rachel manages.

"I'm past you," the girl – her – shrugs. "It's quite apropos. Here to remind you of where you've been and all that. I thought you'd recognize the gesture. I know we're Jewish, but we appreciate the framework and symbolism in _A Christmas Carol_." She stands up and crosses the room, absently straightening the hem of her sweater. "You'd better not have gotten rid of this sweater, by the way. I love it. I looked in our closet and couldn't find it."

Rachel finds herself at a loss for words – something that doesn't happen often. "Who … what … this is a dream, right? What are you doing here?"

"Of course it's a dream, but your subconscious has to have come up with this for a reason, right?" the girl says. "I heard what you've been up to. And may I say, I _strongly_ disapprove?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, for starters, there's _this_." The younger girl picks up a piece of delicate gold jewelry off the nightstand and grimaces as she holds it up. "You're wearing your boyfriend's name around your neck? What is this, a gold-plated collar? To say nothing of your _OTHER_ new accessory." She casts a pointed gaze on the ring.

"Finn loves me," Rachel protests. "And I love him. Besides, don't you remember pining over him for years? Aren't you happy to know that things worked out?"

Her younger self scoffs. "Things 'working out' for us doesn't mean getting the guy like some cliche out of a bad romantic comedy. When we're in New York, on a Broadway stage for eight shows a week, with a resume full of leading roles, and a mantle full of Tonys, _then_ we can say that life worked out."

"But we can have both! Finn already agreed to go to New York with us."

"What's he going to do there? Hold your purse on the red carpet? Wait tables forever? He'll be just as miserable there as we'd be if we stayed in Ohio for him. He's not going to fit in with the theater community, or with New York in general! He's stupidly endearing, but he barely makes it through the day as is - he won't last ten minutes in New York City! There's exactly _one_ guy we've dated who is Broadway material, and we both know how _that_ ended."

Rachel feels a twinge in her chest at the thought of the one boy she'd ever met who was her equal in talent and ambition. But she quickly shoves it away. She'd closed the door on that part of her life. "See? And he chose that ambition over us, didn't he? At least Finn treats us right."

"Wake up," her younger self snaps. "He cheated on Quinn with us. He manipulated us because he needed to _use_ us to boost his chances of getting a scholarship. He dumped us to go on a date with Santana AND Brittany. Then the minute someone else came along, he got jealous. You used to think your dreams were bigger than him."

"So you think I can't hold on to my dreams and forgive him, too?"

"Forgiveness is all well and good, but did he ever apologize for any of it?"

"Things have changed. Really."

"What _HAPPENED_ to you? We're meant for more than this. We're getting out of here, remember?"

"I probably didn't get into college!" she snaps back at her past self, the argument suddenly making her feel like more of a child then either of them is. "That's what happened to me. But whatever else happens, at least I have Finn. Isn't that what love is? Having someone who stands with you when life is at its worst?"

Her former self snorts indelicately, then grabs her by the hand to pull her off the edge of the bed. She resists for a second – surprised that a figment of her imagination can actually touch her – but she's mostly too tired to argue as the other girl pulls her across the room to stand in front of her mirror.

"Look," the younger girl says, tucking her own dark head close so they're side-by-side, staring intently into the mirror. "This is love. Love is when a football player throws a slushy in your face, and you hold your head high, clean yourself up, and go to class like nothing happened, because you won't give them the satisfaction. Love is when Santana mocks what you're wearing but you wear the same thing the next day because you won't change yourself to fit in. Love is when you're at ballet class and exhausted or at Glee arguing with Mr. Schue over a solo, because love is working hard for your dreams. Love is passion. Love is believing in yourself no matter what someone else says. Love is when you don't have someone to stand beside you when life is at its worst – but you trust yourself to get through it anyway." She reaches out and picks up the bedazzled hairbrush. "Look me in the eye and tell me you still make time to sing every day, just for yourself."

She can't meet the younger girl's eyes.

"You don't understand," she says quietly, shaking her head a little. "You're young. You don't understand that some things might be just as important as fame. This is why you're always fighting with Mercedes and Kurt, remember? You have big dreams, but you're awfully self-centered. I'm still you. I've just grown up a little."

"Maybe I'm flawed, but maturing doesn't mean giving up who you are!" the younger girl explodes. "I can't even _recognize_ you! I know you're me, but it's like looking at a stranger. Where's the girl who saved New Directions at Sectionals? Everyone, yourself included probably, thinks Finn was the big hero that day for riding in with a song at the last minute – but you did it, because only you could perform like that at a moment's notice. Because you'd been working so hard your whole life."

"I love Finn," Rachel insists. "He's been very supportive. He understands me. He's the one, I know it." She pauses, then quietly admits, "I want to be a star, but I don't want to do it alone."

"You might love him, or think you do, anyway, but that's not enough to survive on," the younger girl says quietly. She reaches out to touch Rachel's hair gently. "It's lonely at the top. We both know that."

"You're both wrong."

The two teenagers both jump at the unexpected voice. They both turn around to see another woman standing near the door of the bedroom. She's older – maybe in her late twenties or early thirties. She's wearing a simple pastel dress that looks vintage, and her eyes and features are awfully familiar.

"You have to be _kidding_ me," Rachel manages.

"Achieving your dreams doesn't necessarily mean being alone," the woman – clearly, their future self – says matter-of-factly. "But that also doesn't mean you have to settle for Finn. You'll find someone whose dreams are compatible with yours, and that's when you'll have it all – your career, the stage, the city, and someone to go home to who understands all of it."

It sounds too good to be true, the surest sign yet that she's still asleep, still dreaming.

"Finn understands it," Rachel insists. "Maybe he can't recite Stephen Schwartz' resume and I have to explain some things to him, but he knows how important New York is to me."

"Finn's not a bad guy, but he doesn't understand you. You just think he does," the older woman says gently. "There's a difference between being supportive - which he tries to be, but misses the mark on - and really _understanding_. You think what you have is good – and it was, for high school – but that's just because you haven't seen _really_ good yet."

Actually, she has – for a few brief weeks, when she let herself think that there might be someone else in the world who was just like her, before he'd pulled the rug out from under her feet, leaving her to wonder if it had ever been real, or just an illusion. She wonders if he felt the same when, a year later, she did more or less the same to him. It's nothing like that now. Finn is safe. She'd settled into a relationship with him without constantly looking over her shoulder wondering when it was going to be over. But still, there's this nagging sense that something is missing. She keeps hoping that if she sticks around long enough, he'll show her something more. _Epic romance_, a voice whispers in the back of her head.

"If you won't listen to me, will you at least listen to her?" the youngest girl in the room says, gesturing over to the new arrival. "You make a valid point about me not having the experience to lecture you, but she clearly does. And look, she turned out okay."

The older woman nods. "That's exactly what I'm saying. It might feel like a risk to give Finn up, or to be alone for awhile. You might be afraid of being hurt, having it all blow up in your face. But you know as well as all of us do that the risk is measured by the size of the reward."

"You you're talking like ... you gave Finn up and you're not alone in the future?" Rachel hesitantly asks.

"She's wearing a wedding band," the younger girl interrupts, pointing, before the woman can form an answer.

"I told you it would work out!" Rachel says triumphantly. Her younger self immediately opens her mouth to argue.

"It's not Finn," their older self interrupts, stalling the argument before it can begin.

"Then who?" Rachel asks.

The youngest one rolls her eyes. "Who cares, as long as it's not Finn."

Their older self hesitates. "I'm not supposed to tell you details."

This conversation probably could have been over ten minutes ago if they weren't all so stubborn.

"Please."

The woman sighs. "You both know him. He hurt us badly, and we hurt him. But at the end of the day, he's the one who is going to understand, and share your dreams – and you do the same for him. That's how the two of you forgive each other, and that's what you build on."

"It sounds perfect," their younger self sighs. She's a romantic at heart, Rachel remembers. Maybe she still has that inside her – but maybe it's misguiding her a little, she thinks for the first time. Believing in the fairy tale without any kind of practicality to back it up.

Their older self laughs. "More or less, not that I'd ever let him hear me say that – his ego doesn't need any help. He's horrendously talented and will keep up with you on every level. He's smart, and he'll challenges you every day – but he'll also support you." She glances away, a strange little smile Rachel can't quite place playing on her face. "My life is just ... better, because of him."

Rachel suddenly realizes exactly who her older self is talking about – who she already knows that's like that – and gasps. Her past self gets it at almost the same time.

"It's Jesse," Rachel guesses, trying to decide what the mess of emotions in her stomach is when their older self won't meet their eyes in a gesture that doesn't need any confirmation.

"He egged us!" the younger girl says indignantly.

"We hurt him, too," Rachel murmurs. "Just like she said. A few times."

"_Please_. _Run Joey Run_ didn't remotely compare to what he did."

"Wait until what happens at Nationals junior year. Then you'll understand."

"We go to Nationals?" young Rachel says in excitement, latching on to that bit of information.

"We're not supposed to tell her details," older Rachel reminds gently.

The younger girl huffs an impatient sigh and stamps her foot a little. "Well, I suppose the news that we make it to Nationals shouldn't be surprising. Clearly, with me at the helm, New Directions can succeed. I think you ought to listen to her though, Rachel. I'm mad at Jesse and Shelby for the deplorable stunts they pulled, but even I can admit that he was a _lot_ more fun to talk to than Finn. He can debate Sondheim with us for hours, whereas Finn can't name a single one of his works. Even Noah is more compatible with us than Finn."

"How do we believe her? This is just a dream. Jesse's gone," Rachel says, and forces the familiar twinge of regret aside. "He didn't come back after Nationals last year, and why would he, after what happened? I think he stayed in New York. Or maybe he went back to UCLA. I wanted to apologize, but couldn't even find him to talk about it afterward. I shut the door on that part of my life, for good."

"You'll see him again," her older self says softly. "When the time's right. And he's going to let you talk about it - trust me, you _do_ owe him one epic apology. But you're not ready right now. You're forgetting who you are, and you need to get that back - without confusing yourself with another person. A lot of it happens once you make the difficult decisions about Finn and get yourself into the city. That's when you start being a whole person again – before you can move on."

Her older self reaches out a comforting hand toward her shoulder, but Rachel dodges across the room, suddenly angry.

"And how do you propose this all falls into place?" she hisses. "I kind of messed up my Broadway dreams, here. A suspension and a mark on my permanent record, and I probably didn't even get into my top college. And the application deadlines are all past at most of the other good performing arts schools in New York - not that they'd even _look_ at me because of said suspension."

"I'm going to tell you this so you'll sleep better tonight, even though you're stubborn and you'll probably have to figure it out for yourself anyway," the woman sighs. "You're scared of failing, and you're clinging to Finn because he feels safe. But you've got to take risks to get the future you want. Don't be so worried about NYADA. I promise college will work out. And even if it didn't, how many Broadway stars deferred or passed on college to pursue their careers? The important thing is to stay true to yourself."

"I'm not clinging to Finn because I'm scared," Rachel says defiantly. "I love him."

"I maintain that you haven't discovered what love really feels like yet, but we'll agree to disagree for now. Because someday soon, you'll realize that you said yes to him out of fear, and _that's_ when you'll do the right thing."

"I'm not afraid," she says. It sounds lame, even to her. "What do you think I'm afraid of?"

Her older self shrugs. "Take your pick. Not getting into the right school. Not having success once you start auditioning - just not being good enough. Being trapped in Ohio your whole life. Being alone. You can't control everything, but there are a couple of those fears that you can control the outcome of. But the ones you can? You're leading yourself right into your worst fears. You're scared to try - "

"I've never been scared to try anything in my life," Rachel snaps.

"If you don't try, you don't have to know whether you would have succeeded or failed," her older self explains gently. "But if you stay here with Finn, you're guaranteed to fail."

"I'm not staying here. I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are," her younger self chimes back in. This must be a dream, because their voices are all definitely raised, and her daddy - historically a light sleeper - hasn't knocked on the door yet. "You said it yourself earlier – 'at least' you have Finn. You're settling for him because you're afraid that if you don't hold on, you won't have anything else. I have nothing to lose, and I'm still afraid of failing every day. It's okay to admit it."

"Why are you pushing this? So what if I'm afraid, then?" Rachel snaps. "It's senior year. Everyone's supposed to be afraid." She pauses. Sinks back down on the end of the bed as, suddenly, it hits her. "I'm just ... afraid."

The minute the words are out of her mouth, she feels relieved. But she also feels something break inside of her. She looks at the other two people in the room.

"I'm _afraid_," she repeats. "I've always been the one who had it all together. Everyone else was always confused, but I always knew where I was going. And suddenly I don't know anymore. And I'm scared. I'm _terrified_. I'm afraid of making the wrong decisions. I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of never going to New York. I'm afraid of being trapped here my whole life. I'm afraid of being alone. I'm afraid of hurting people."

She doesn't even realize she's crying until her view of the two other Rachels blurs, and she scrubs at her eyes. But the tears keep coming, and she just gives up. When she can't get any more words out, she buries her face in her hands and cries in earnest. She hasn't admitted her fears to anyone. She couldn't even verbalize them to herself. Apparently she can to her two other selves. It's liberating, in a sense, but she doesn't feel any less lost.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do this time."

Instead of offering advice, her alter egos have gone quiet. Suddenly, the bed shifts as someone perches on the edge of it beside her, touches her shoulder. She stiffens a little at the touch of his hand, thinking this dream cannot possibly get any stranger. But she relaxes when he tugs her closer, knowing without saying anything how to comfort her. She lets herself be drawn into his warm arms.

"He can't stand to see us cry," she hears her older self mutter to her younger self.

"Shh," he whispers, for her ears only. "It's okay, baby. I've got you. You don't have to be scared, Rach."

"I'm never going to make it, Jesse," she mutters, feeling utterly exhausted from crying.

"You _are_," he insists, stroking her hair away from her damp face. "You'll get there someday. And I'll be right beside you."

She sniffs and tucks herself closer against his shoulder, seeking comfort. "Will you tell me what it's like?"

He chuckles softly. "I can't. That's not how this works. Otherwise, you'd miss out on all the fun of discovering it."

"But we're good?" she asks softly.

She feels him nod. "We're happy, Rachel. We're really happy."

It's the nicest thing she's heard all night.

"Jesse? Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"You're already asleep, Rachel," he reminds her gently. "This is in your mind."

"I know," she sighs. "I know. But …. will you stay anyway?"

He presses a kiss against her hair. "Always."

* * *

><p>She blinks awake, alone in her bed, surprised that there's light is coming through the windows - more surprised when she rolls over and the clock tells her it's past ten. She never sleeps this late, not even on the weekend.<p>

But she supposes she had a lot to dream about last night.

She sighs and looks at the ring on her hand, quietly thinking for a long moment. Then she reaches out and picks up her sparkly pink cell phone off the nightstand.

"Finn? It's me. We need to talk."


End file.
